


kindred, born again

by robotsdontcry



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-18
Updated: 2020-05-18
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:47:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24238276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/robotsdontcry/pseuds/robotsdontcry
Summary: In the end, it all comes down to a matter of destiny. He was born to chase the Avatar, and the Avatar was born to run.
Relationships: Aang/Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 15
Kudos: 351





	kindred, born again

It starts with a feeling.

“Do you think we could’ve been friends too?” the Avatar asks innocently. 

Zuko, who’s exhausted and barely conscious, reacts purely on instinct. 

When he finally comes to his senses, the Avatar is nowhere to be seen. Zuko finds himself lying in a bed of leaves, so neatly arranged as to raise suspicion. Late-afternoon sun burns his eyes, the whole forest bathed in gold and amber. Is this a dream? Is he finally losing it?

He doesn’t have a word for the feeling that continues to haunt him hours later, so he names it useless curiosity and shoves it down, and all but forgets about it.

…

“I’ve never seen the Avatar in my life,” the innkeeper insists.

Zuko can feel his patience running low. The Avatar’s here; he can feel it. They’ve been following the Avatar’s trail for nearly a month, which meant weeks stuck at sea, rationing food and supplies, with no company besides his good-for-nothing crew and indolent uncle. This is the strongest lead he’s had in a while, and he's determined not to lose it.

He holds up a crumpled paper with the crude sketch of the Avatar he scratched out this morning. “A bald kid with an arrow on his head?” he says. “Orange robes? Carrying a staff?”

The man shakes his head, apologetic. Zuko decides he doesn’t have time for this.

“Search every house,” he orders his men, who scatter obligingly. Zuko heads for the stairs, ignoring the innkeeper’s protests. “I guess I’ll just have to check this one myself.”

Upstairs, he finds an empty room down the hall that’s clearly been used. It’s obvious the occupants left in a hurry: an unmade bed, various personal belongings strewn everywhere, the window left ajar. He catches a whiff of the ocean, the all-too-familiar reek of salt and fish, and wants to gag.

Upon closer inspection, there’s a piece of paper on the desk. A childish cartoon drawing in his own likeness, scar and all, that makes him bristle; underneath, a note that says _check the window._ Zuko glances over at the window just in time to see a bison-shaped cloud skimming the horizon.

So close. He burns the paper to a crisp.

A few minutes later, Uncle finds him standing in the empty room, glaring at the window. “Any luck?” he says.

“No," Zuko says. Uncle says something about taking a break for a while, but Zuko pushes past him and heads for the ship. The Avatar is clearly taunting him, and Zuko isn't one to back down from a challenge.

…

In school, the lessons were always the same. Beyond the borders of the Fire Nation lies a dark world steeped in poverty and suffering, where people can neither read nor write and live off the land like savages. The textbooks were filled with images of run-down Earth Kingdom villages, primitive Water Tribes, now-extinct Air Nomads. Who better to show them the light than the Fire Nation, the most advanced civilization in history? Only the strong can earn their place in the history books.

Zuko knows all this just as he knows the Fire Nation anthem by heart. But still, there’s always been _something_ , a ache he can’t explain—

The first time he dreams of the Avatar, he's convinced the universe is playing a practical joke on him, because the kid already causes him no shortage of problems in real life. The Avatar floats in the air before him, cross-legged and smiling, easily evading Zuko's attempts to capture him. _Too slow_ , he taunts.

 _I don't get it,_ Zuko says. His whole body is moving in slow motion, as if underwater. _You're just a kid. Why is this so hard?_

 _You'll never be good enough,_ says the Avatar, and his mischievous grin changes into the stern scowl of Zuko's father. Then he disappears, and Zuko wakes up in a cold sweat.

He convinces himself it doesn't matter. In the end, it all comes down to a matter of destiny. He was born to chase the Avatar, and the Avatar was born to run. When Zuko finally delivers him to his father, that will be the end of it. Nothing more.

…

The Avatar talks in his dream-state.

Right now he’s mumbling something incoherent, breath clouding up in the cold air as his tattoos glow in the darkness. Leaning against the opposite wall of the cave, Zuko turns his pocket knife over and over in his hands, running his numb fingers over the sheath. A silent mantra, one that he recites to himself every morning: _Never give up without a fight._

“You know, I’ve hated you since I first laid eyes on you,” Zuko says, his voice echoing through the cave. The fire between them, a grounding presence amidst the bitter cold, casts long shadowy shapes on the walls. Outside, the wind howls.

The Avatar stirs, but doesn’t respond.

“You were given everything,” Zuko continues. “I had everything taken from me.”

Truthfully, he can't put into words why he hates the Avatar so much. Maybe it's his naive, trusting face, peaceful even in slumber as he supposedly calls upon the power of his ancestors. Maybe it's his refusal to properly face Zuko in a match and use his power to its full extent, instead avoiding conflict whenever possible.

Or, if Zuko's being honest—it's because every time he looks at the Avatar, he’s reminded, in more ways than one, of his own weakness.

“If I had your power, I know what I would do,” Zuko says. “I’d win the war once and for all, and never look back. Then my father would have to acknowledge me. He’d have to accept me as his own son.”

The Avatar exhales quietly.

“Forget it. This is stupid.” 

What was he expecting? That the Avatar would say something back? Zuko remembers first his dream of the Avatar, then that surreal conversation in the forest. His chest squeezes tight, something small and forgotten trapped inside.

It doesn’t make any difference in the long run; the Avatar ends up escaping anyway. Somehow, though, he saves Zuko again in the process.

…

“Why did you do it?” Zuko asks accusingly, the next time the Avatar shows up in his dream.

“Why did I do what?” They’re back in the forest. The Avatar is perched on a low-hanging branch, swinging his legs absentmindedly, while Zuko leans back against the leaves, trying to make himself comfortable. It’s autumn now, and the trees are dying and the earth is barren and dry. Perfect for a fire. He could burn this whole forest down without blinking an eye; then the Avatar would have no choice but to leave him alone.

“Why did you save me again?" When the Avatar gives him a weird look, he continues: "At the Northern Water Tribe, when I was unconscious.”

“Oh.” The Avatar looks thoughtful. “It wasn’t a big deal. I’d never leave someone to die.”

“Even though I’m your enemy?” Zuko presses.

“You’re not my enemy,” the Avatar says firmly. “And even if you are, I don’t care. The monks used to say that every life is precious and capable of good.”

“I don’t understand,” Zuko says, or tries to say, but then the forest dissolves before him and he awakes to the sound of Uncle snoring beside him and crickets chirping in Earth Kingdom fields.

He’s never felt this homesick in a long time. Against all odds, he even finds himself missing his old ship and crew. He rises and wanders away from their makeshift campsite, mind racing with strange and unsettling thoughts.

…

The next time he encounters the real Avatar, it’s in the tunnels underneath the Earth Kingdom palace. As expected, confronting him in real life isn’t the same as meeting him in a dream, and Zuko feels the old hatred flare up almost immediately. 

Three months on the run from the Fire Nation haven’t changed anything. In the end, he still loves his country and hates the Avatar. Taking Azula’s side in the fight against the Avatar feels as natural as breathing. It’s who he has been and is always destined to be. The difference is, now he’s more confident than ever where his loyalties lie.

Which is why, when the Avatar appears in a dream a few days later, Zuko says, “I wouldn’t hesitate to kill you on behalf of my country. Don’t you see? We have nothing in common.”

“Are you sure?” the Avatar says.

“Why wouldn’t I be sure?” Zuko scowls. “Trust me, I would have done it if Azula hadn’t.”

The Avatar’s face falls. Zuko has to remind himself it's not a betrayal if they were never on the same side in the first place.

“You’re not even real,” he accuses. “You’re just a figment of my imagination. I know who I am, and I know what’s real and what’s not.”

To Zuko’s vicious satisfaction, the Avatar doesn’t appear in his dreams after that. Zuko convinces himself he doesn’t feel guilty, not even a little. Even if it means sleepless nights telling himself he’d done the right thing. 

…

In the time after Azula not-quite kills the Avatar and Zuko is restored as crown prince of the Fire Nation, he has plenty of time to think, or as Azula likes to call it, mope around uselessly. She finds him at the pond for the third day in a row, lying on his back in the grass and staring listlessly at the clouds. 

“Lighten up, Zuzu,” Azula says. “You’ve been moody and depressed this whole week. Why not try to do something productive for once?”

“Leave me alone,” Zuko replies automatically, and rolls over so that his back is facing her. Azula sighs, but instead of leaving him alone, takes a seat on the grass beside him.

“Okay, what’s wrong,” she says.

“Don’t tell me you actually care,” Zuko mutters, because Azula isn’t Azula without some ulterior motive, and by now he knows better than anyone not to let his guard down around her.

“I don’t.” He can practically hear her rolling her eyes. She takes a blade of grass and lets it smolder between her fingers. “You’re just getting on my nerves.”

Zuko groans and leans back, squinting against the bright sky. “Come on, Azula. You know what I’m talking about, and it’s your fault.”

“How is it my fault?” This conversation between them is scripted; he remembers countless interactions from their childhood when he'd accuse her of something and she'd wave it off with a laugh, tell him not to take everything so seriously. Then he’d bring it to their mother, who would, to his delight, take his side.

“We both know the Avatar’s alive,” Zuko says. 

“How can you be so sure?” Azula scoffs.

“I can feel it,” Zuko insists. “He’s out there somewhere, and it’s messing with me.”

Azula yawns, stretching her arms high above her head. “Not my problem. Father thinks _you_ defeated him, remember?”

“That’s why this is all your fault!” Zuko sits up, voice rising in frustration, and a few spooked birds scatter from the tree beside the pond. “You got me into this mess in the first place.” Azula only raises an eyebrow at him, unimpressed. 

Finally he leans back onto his forearms and admits, defeated, “I don’t know what to do.” 

Sensing the change in tone, Azula gives him a long, searching look. Zuko forces himself to meet her gaze squarely. There is no sympathy in her eyes, only thinly-veiled disdain. To Azula, he realizes, it's not even a question.

“Well, I know what _I_ would do,” she replies. “That’s the difference between us.”

…

He finds the scroll lying outside his room, with a hidden note telling him to go to the catacombs.

Zuko has a feeling he already knows who it’s from, but he’s been lying in bed wide awake and has nothing better to do anyway, so he makes his way down to the catacombs. It’s midnight and he trusts that no one will find him here. He leans against the wall, making himself as comfortable as possible in the dimly lit space, and reads: about his great-grandfather and the previous reincarnation of the Avatar, their intertwined destinies, and his own inheritance in the form of a hundred-year war.

He doesn't get it until he confronts his uncle and demands an explanation. It's there, in the shadows of the prison cell, that Zuko finally begins to understand. Through all the lies of his childhood emerges a truth: the person who he thought destiny dictated him to be is nothing more than the product of a father’s neglect.

…

“You were right,” Zuko admits.

“About what?” the Avatar says, surprise and confusion written on his face. It’s the first time Zuko’s dreamed of the Avatar in months, but it no longer angers him as it once did. He knows now what he needs to do, and the reappearance of the Avatar in his subconscious only strengthens his resolve.

“When you said we could have been friends.”

“What do you mean?”

“I learned something last week,” Zuko says. The full moon is bright tonight, casting a pale glow onto the leaves. It's been almost a year since their first meeting here, Zuko realizes, and since then they’ve come full circle. “About my heritage. Avatar Roku was my great-grandfather on my mother’s side.”

“Yeah. Sozin and Roku were best friends,” the Avatar says. “But what does that have to do with—”

“My heritage is more complicated than I thought,” Zuko says. “I’ve done some thinking, and I’ve made up my mind.”

He stands up, brushing off leaves and dirt from his clothes, and extends a hand to the Avatar. The Avatar accepts it. His dark eyes, usually cheerful and impish, are trained on Zuko with an intensity he’s never shown before. Somehow they seem to contain the wisdom of hundreds of generations.

“I’m coming to help you,” Zuko declares. “Even if it means being branded a traitor to the Fire Nation. It’s clear to me now. This is what I have to do.”

After a moment, the Avatar smiles. 

“Huh,” he says. “I guess friendships really can last more than one lifetime.”

…

“I never wanted to be the Avatar, actually,” Aang confesses.

Forested hills and gleaming rivers pass down below as Appa takes the two of them back to camp. Crickets are stirring in the fields. It’s been a week since Zuko joined Team Avatar, and he doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to this view.

“Why?” he says, surprised. “I know a lot of people who’d kill for that kind of power.” 

The hunger runs in his blood. Zuko thinks of his father’s cold megalomania, of Azula’s insane desperation, and then of himself. It’s been too long; he can no longer summon the bitter anger he’d once felt. What he wanted had never been raw, cold-blooded power, but something more tender, more vulnerable: a father’s love.

“I just wanted to be a normal kid,” Aang says. “When I found out I was the Avatar, my friends abandoned me. I lost everyone I loved. I ran away.”

“Oh,” Zuko says. “So that’s why you went missing for a hundred years.”

It's starting to make sense to him now. Aang had never been the kind of person to lust after power. But maybe if Zuko had known him sooner, he wouldn’t have been blinded by his all-consuming hatred for the Avatar for so long. Truthfully, he’s not proud of a lot of things he’s done, but this is something he thinks he regrets the most.

Aang nods. He has his back turned, so Zuko can’t see his expression. His shoulders are slumped, and for a moment he’s just a kid, crushed by the weight of the world’s hope. “It’s the only thing I’m good at, apparently.”

It’s moments like these when Zuko wishes he had a shred of Katara’s sympathy, Toph’s tough love, even Sokka’s dry humor. All he can come up with is, “You’re not wrong about that.”

“What?” Aang turns around.

“I spent three whole years trying to capture you. I would know.”

“You’re not supposed to _agree_ with me,” Aang retorts, but he’s grinning.

The stars twinkle, cold pinpricks of light in the darkness. Only a year ago, Zuko was convinced his destiny to capture the Avatar was written into the stars; now he cringes at the thought. Yet one thing remains the same: his destiny is inextricably tied to Aang’s. Somehow Zuko’s orbit always finds its way back to him.

“I think,” he begins quietly, “there was a part of me that never wanted to be Ozai’s son.” Aang gives him a curious look, but Zuko presses on: “Even before I was banished. There were so many expectations. I could never fill the shoes everyone always expected me to.”

“Huh. Sounds familiar,” Aang mumbles. 

Now it’s Zuko’s turn to look at him. For a moment they just sit in the absurd and unexpected shock of being understood for the first time.

“You know what? We should’ve been friends sooner,” Aang says. “Sometimes destiny sucks.”

“It really does,” Zuko agrees.

**Author's Note:**

> i only watched this show two months ago, but it had a profound impact on me. i was particularly drawn to these two - i like how they were presented as foils and how their narratives were shown side by side. 
> 
> thank you for reading!


End file.
